


The Woman Whom You Beat

by orphan_account



Series: Glass Cases [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom Sherlock, Dubious Consent, F/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Sub Irene, Sybian, Tickling, Vaginal Sex, observer John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: About a year ago, Irene Adler was kidnapped by a genius. She has since become her kidnapper's submissive.</p><p>Last night, her captor kidnapped another person -- John Watson. </p><p>John learns what's in store for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woman Whom You Beat

John thinks he isn't hungry, but he still eats all of the fish and chips that S left on his mattress. "How often does he feed you?" he yells to Irene in the other glass cell.

"You don't need to shout. And twice a day. Breakfast and supper. I think this is breakfast, though I'm not so sure any more." Irene is also eating fish and chips. "It's been so long since I've seen the sky, and I'm drugged too often. This room is climate controlled, so I can't even tell what season it is."

Irene is wearing matching white bra and pants, basic but not cheap. This kind of underwear is usually what S leaves her in. He picks them out himself. Occasionally he buys her costumes for their sessions, like leatherwear, or a corset, or a lace negligee that he can tear off her body. Sometimes after their sessions, he would move her to her cell without cleaning her up, and leave her there naked. He would warn, "If I don't see my crusted come on your skin tomorrow, you will be punished."

"It's spring, as far as I know," John says. "The last thing I remember is being at the pub on a Friday night, May the second." John stares at the empty paper plate on his lap, and the empty paper cup next to it. "So, no three square meals? I thought you said he feeds you properly."

"Two is enough. You'll get used to it. You won't need a lot of nourishment; you're not going to be doing much in here." Her next words don't make it past her lips: "except take what he gives you."

"What if I need to go to the loo?"

"Ah, that usually happens after a session, every two days or so. One day if you're lucky." Irene doesn't mean that she feels lucky to go to the loo within 24 hours of her last visit; she means she's lucky when S takes her out of her cell to play again just one day after a session. There is absolutely nothing else for her to do otherwise. Besides, she genuinely enjoys her sessions with S (except for disciplinary sessions), because she finds S to be a capable dominant. She would know.

The last thing Irene remembers before being kidnapped is walking into a hotel room to discover that her client, a male submissive, isn't there. The client wasn't S; it was one of her regulars, who always asked to meet in a hotel. Normally Irene would arrive to find him naked and kneeling. That night, the room was empty. The next thing she remembers is being tied up on a padded leather table, naked, with her arms and legs spread wide, forming an inviting X.

"Jesus, two days? Wait, a session?" John asks.

"That's when he plays with your body, darling," Irene explains.

John remembers his experience from the previous night, and shivers.

Irene asks, "Did you see the door?"

"Yeah."

"That leads to the loo. He'll take you there after he's done with you, so you can clean yourself up. He'll be guarding you. He'll have a syringe ready. When you're done, your world will go black, and you'll wake up in your cell. Well, at least that's how he does it with me. Sometimes I'd randomly wake up in the loo, which probably means there won't be a session that day."

John looks down at his clothes. "I think he cleaned me up himself after our... session."

"Yes, he did that to me in the beginning. You'll go through stages. For instance, at first, you'll be tied down to the table, barely able to move at all. After some time -- when he figures he can trust you -- you'll be allowed more freedom."

A bitter chuckle. "Freedom," John spits. "I can probably fight him in the loo. He's tall, but he's skinny."

Irene bypasses the mutinous idea. "Can I ask you something, John?"

"Sure, why not."

"Do you have people looking for you?"

John can't remember what happened at the pub with Mike Stamford. Maybe Mike doesn't know that John didn't make it home that night. "I live alone." John had never been close to his parents or his sister Harry, and it would take them a while to realise John is missing. "People might not immediately notice I'm gone." John doesn't share much of himself with other people. Even with his army mates, who know him best, he barely keeps in touch. As for his locum work, if he doesn't return their calls to confirm his schedule at the surgery, then they might think he's simply too busy and unavailable to take shifts. "Not even at work, because my schedule's irregular."

"I thought so. S is careful like that. There's only one person who might have gone looking for me. Kate, her name is. But a lot of people could conceivably come after me, people who have a talent for cover-ups, so she might have just given me up for dead."

Air hisses out of the vents in their cells. They pass out quickly.

***

When John wakes up, he is still in his cell, but his plate and cup are gone.

Irene is on the table, naked. She is sitting on a Sybian, impaled on its medium-sized phallic attachment. Her arms are tied above her head and hanging by rope from a gymnastic ring suspended from the ceiling. Her legs are under her as though she were kneeling, and her ankles are tied down to the table.

S is a few feet away, pacing slowly, wearing nothing. His cock is limp. In his hand is the remote control for the Sybian. "Are you with us, John?" he asks in the direction of John's cell.

"Yes," John answers quietly.

"You're going to have to learn a few things if we are to get along. First of all, Irene?"

"Yes, sir?"

"That's how you answer, John. Irene, what do I do to you when you forget to address me properly?"

"You punish me, sir."

"How?"

"You've attached weights to my nipples and clothespins to my vulva, and you've beat me, sir."

"What have I used to beat you, Irene?"

"The paddle, whip, crop, cane, and flogger, sir."

"Are you listening, John?"

"Yes, sir," John manages. The salute tastes sour on his tongue.

"Good man. Now, Irene, when was the last time you urinated?"

"Two days ago, sir, I think."

"I want you to drink this." S takes a cup of water from the table and hands it to Irene. "Obviously, you are not allowed to come until I say. Understood?" He ends with a question, mostly for the benefit of the new abductee, whom S expects to be listening attentively.

"Yes, sir." Irene drinks. She notices three more cups of water on the table. When she's done, S hands her another cup.

"You see, John, having a full bladder makes the experience more intense. The rise to orgasm feels fuller, and the orgasm itself is... well, I'll let you experience that soon enough." He takes Irene's second cup and hands her a third. "If you come before I allow it, Irene, I will drip hot wax on your nipples and breasts, on your face, all over your genitals and into all your holes, even your ears."

"Yes, sir."

"Here's what I want you to do." He hands her the last cup. "I want you to describe to John all the things we've been doing in here. I'll be controlling the Sybian simultaneously, of course. It won't stop until you've described our sessions to my satisfaction. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Irene can already feel the heat rising inside her. These days, it does not take much to arouse her during sessions. She must have developed by now a Pavlovian response to being restrained on the table.

S flicks on the vibrator switch for the Sybian. The machine whirrs.

Irene gasps.

"By the way, John?" S turns his head towards John's cell, though they can see each other only as silhouettes through the smoked glass.

"Yes, sir."

"Stop thinking about ways to escape. I know you're doing it. Pay attention to Irene, and imagine yourself watching us do all the things she'll describe. Do it, John. Imagine yourself in the room, watching us play."

"Yes, sir."

"You may begin, Irene." S turns a dial, making the fake phallus rotate inside her.

She moans. "Yes, sir." She inhales through her mouth. "I've been fucked in every hole. Sir ties me to the table, lying flat, and he fucks my mouth hard until my lips are red and I'm choking on his cock. He makes me swallow every last drop of him." She groans.

S stops pacing. He touches his cock, and it begins to harden.

"He has pounded into me between my legs so many times, but he rarely uses just his penis on me. Sometimes while he's inside me, there are beads or a plug in my other hole. A few times when I needed to be disciplined, he used a peeled ginger root, which burns, oh god." Irene alternately tries contracting and loosening her ab and pelvic muscles, working against her building orgasm. She tries moving her lower torso around to change the angle of the phallus. Her attempts help marginally.

S gently strokes his cock. "How are you doing, John?"

"I'm," he clears his throat, "I'm listening, sir." John is lying on his mattress, considering taking off his trousers to free his growing erection. He is very much aware that just outside his smoked glass cell, both Irene and S are naked, and Irene is being tortured by pleasure. Going by the state of his groin, it appears he likes the sounds Irene is making.

"Good. Carry on," S orders. He continues pumping his own cock with one hand.

Irene takes a deep, shaky breath. "Sir has penetrated me anally, sometimes while there is also a dildo inside my vagina. I have also penetrated him anally, with my fingers, my tongue or a strap-on."

"I probably won't need you for that any more," S interrupts.

John's cock twitches. A drop of pre-come escapes. Memories of his own session come to mind, but he pushes them away. He shakes his head.

Irene continues, determined. "Sometimes our sessions last for days, and after the first night, I would sleep naked, with a ball gag still in my mouth, and my wrists tied behind my back. The next morning, sir would play with me again." Irene squirms. She pulls against the bonds on her wrists, but they are secure. She groans.

S smiles. He is fully hard now. He raises the Sybian's vibration intensity, making Irene whimper. He looks over to John's cell, and sees him lying still. He adjusts the rotation of the Sybian's phallus. Irene lets out a broken groan.

"Sir has fucked me with a cylinder of ice until it melted and became too small." Her voice shakes. "He has cut my skin. He has delivered electric shocks to my body. Oh god." Irene catches herself before she can say, "please." She is careful not to beg today. Sometimes she begs even when she can still go on, just because S likes hearing her beg. But now, a part of her wants to show off to John. She has certainly endured more than this from her captor. In fact, edging is one of her favourite games, and S knows this. She greatly prefers pleasure tortures to pain tortures. This is probably why disciplinary sessions have been so effective on her.

S moves closer to Irene, commandingly, as though he were wearing royal garb instead of nothing. He leans forwards and sucks Irene's left nipple. She cries out. He moves to the right breast, and bites the nipple at the same time that he manipulates the switches and dials in his hand.

Irene's whole body trembles. Her eyes roll.

"You're not finished, my dear," S tells her.

"Yes, sir." She holds back a whine. "Sir has brought me to the edge with his hands on my neck, controlling my breath. He has pissed into my anus."

"Are you listening, John?" S interrupts again.

"Yes, sir," John says weakly.

"Your body is mine, now, John. Just as Irene's body is mine. I will do with it what I please. Now, Irene, go on and conclude," S says, and then resumes nipping at the peaks of her breasts.

Irene takes a ragged breath. She speaks fast. "Yes, sir. I've been tied up with rope, chains, leather. I've been blindfolded and given earplugs, handcuffed, had my mouth taped, and then tortured by different sensations of touch -- Sir's hands, his cock, hot wax, ice cubes, electricity, nipple clamps -- with no way to see what's next, completely at Sir's mercy."

John can't keep from touching himself any more. He couldn't help picturing what Irene has been describing, especially as she's making all those arousing noises. It seems he wants to be a part of it all, and it occurs to him that he doesn't even know what Irene looks like. His pants and trousers feel tight around his full cock. Still lying down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, he unbuttons and unzips, and pulls the garments down his thighs.

Outside the glass case, S hears the zip and smiles. He mouths against Irene's nipple, "Almost there, love."

Irene continues, "I've been tied up in intricate shibari patterns, and left bound in some of those patterns overnight. I have been bitten almost everywhere. I... Sir, I think that's all. Ugh, god, oh my god." She shuts her eyes.

S turns off the machine.

"Oh god, thank you, sir," Irene catches her breath.

"It's not over, Irene." S walks around to the back of the table, and Irene's heart pounds in anticipation of his next move. Standing behind Irene, S gives her nape a gentle massage for a few seconds, then grazes her back with his fingertips, and softly drags his fingers down to her buttocks. He then moves his hands to her feet, and Irene gasps. "Irene is ticklish, but only on the soles of her feet. Do you know, John, what else makes it hard to hold in an orgasm, aside from a full bladder?"

"No, sir," John responds, with one hand gripping his cock.

"Tickling," S says as he runs his fingers across Irene's soles. Irene's whole body shivers. His hands brush her soles for a few seconds, and then he unties her ankles and helps her stand up on the table. Her battered pussy is freed from the Sybian. S climbs onto the table and stands facing Irene, whose hands are still tied together, loosely dangling from the gymnastic ring above her. With one hand, S grabs Irene around the hip, and with the other, he guides his cock into her reddened folds until he is all the way in. He then holds on to Irene with both hands on her hips, clutching her hard enough to bruise, and drives into her hard, over and over. On every thrust, Irene shrieks and yelps. She is sensitive and sore. Her captor's cock is larger than the Sybian's phallus, and she feels so satisfyingly filled. Her orgasm threatens to overtake her control, but she fights it. She wishes S would come soon, so he can stop pounding into her. She can't hold on much longer. Eventually he comes inside her, and his juice drips down her legs.

Irene successfully holds back her release. She sobs shaky breaths, while all her muscles quiver. Finally she lets go of her whole weight, and the only reason she remains mostly vertical is the rope keeping her wrists overhead.

When S regains his composure, he says, "I will let you come tomorrow, Irene."

"Thank you, sir." She is relieved. Gaining a small amount of renewed strength, she tightens her pelvic muscles, forcing her orgasm back further.

"And John?" S calls out.

"Yes, sir?"

"You will be joining us."

"Yes, sir." John uncrumples his shirt sleeve, brushing away evidence that he bit into his arm. He disagrees on principle with his body's apparent enjoyment of his current predicament, so while S was fucking a screaming Irene on top of the table, John was coming in his hand, biting into his arm to stay quiet.


End file.
